


Like a Whisper

by Lozza342



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Blindfolds, Bondage, Coming Untouched, Deepthroating, Dry Orgasm, Fluff and Smut, Full-Body Orgasm, Gags, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sensory Deprivation, Sensual Play, THIS IS A THING, Tattoo Artist Iwaizumi Hajime, spider walking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lozza342/pseuds/Lozza342
Summary: It's only the leather he can feel, the leather around his hands, and around his feet pulling his legs apart and skyward. In his vision is blackness, just the back of his blindfold without a single slip of light from anywhere.He can't hear anything either, but there's a shift in the air around him.It's been so long.It's felt like days.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kindaichi Yuutarou
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	Like a Whisper

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write some tattoo artist Iwaizumi and of course the first thing that happened was this.
> 
> I don't regret anything!
> 
> "Spider Walking" is quite elusive when you search for it, but it's a type of sensual play in that you touch someone in such a way that it awakens pleasure and, if done right, can bring someone to orgasm without being touched in a significant way. I played around with the idea, and this was the outcome.

It's only the leather he can feel, the leather around his hands, and around his feet pulling his legs apart and skyward. In his vision is blackness, just the back of his blindfold without a single slip of light from anywhere.

He can't hear anything either, but there's a shift in the air around him.

It's been so long.

It's felt like days.

A warm weight settles on his bare stomach and Yuutarou flinches hard.

Yuutarou can feel the distinguishable texture of Hajime's fingers grazing his skin. It's of latex gloves, ones he so often wears for his work. To touch skin and dance a needle delicately over skin, carve a piece of art beneath it in metal.

It's such a strange concept, beautiful, erotic in Yuutarou's hazed, desperate brain. He's touch-starved, will take anything… including the pain of a tattoo needle. He wonders if it would be the same stinging feel as a whip, only more concentrated.

Perhaps… He should get a tattoo. One where Hajime makes his non-permanent marks, the purple-blue blotches littering his well-known erogenous zones, usually hidden from view from all beneath makeup and modest clothing.

For now, Hajime shall use his body as a regular canvas, the careful lick of a pen tracing patterns all over his body, starting from his stomach.

It's going to take a while, Yuutarou knows, though his body thrums deeply with pleasure wrought by Hajime's delicate brushwork, nerves lighting up excitedly at the tiniest of sensations. This is the best kind of torture - the stinging of earlier activities heightened by lack of anything else to focus on - that wetness soaks into his blindfold.

-

He wants it to stop and he never wants it to stop, his body lit on fire, flaring with every tiny movement of his lover's caress.

So much care goes into every touch, Yuutarou can feel it, the concentration in Hajime. It’s a common sight, sometimes when Yuutarou watches him work on a customer, single brow furrowed, tongue bitten between teeth. He imagines that’s what he looks like now, as he traces a long line along Yuutarou’s inner thigh.

The touch is tantalisingly close, cutting off right at his perineum and he  _ aches _ .

His heart doesn’t seem to understand the concept of relaxing as all it does is beat faster, sending blood rushing through him. For hours now, he’s been teetering on and off the brink, has even been completely soft in a few moments of respite, in the breaks where Hajime helps tip ice-cold water down his throat before gagging him and leaving him to re-acquaint himself with nothingness.

Yuutarou never feels so thirsty as in those moments, when the plastic presses to his lips, Hajime’s fingers in his silky hair. He’s sure he had said something to Hajime in that moment, mouth soft with disuse, but he can’t remember anymore.

Yuutarou understands how such isolation could send someone insane, but deep down he knows Hajime will come back to him.

And now he’s back, his last stretch of time to tease Yuutarou, keep him down in the depths of heat, soaring high on pleasure. It’s so difficult to stay still now, but Hajime is good at tying him up in a way he knows he’ll never get what he wants. Not until Hajime allows it.

-

Torture, pure torture. Yuutarou’s nerves light on fire at the simple swipe of a cloth, clearing the precome from his cock. He almost comes,  _ almost _ , until Hajime moves away for a moment, coming back to slide his latex-covered fingers around the base of his cock, cutting off his chances of orgasm. He needs to be hard for Hajime to finish his masterpiece.

For the last stretch of skin is his cock, red and hot and heavy. Yuutarou whines around his gag, choking on his own throat as Hajime’s pen follows the path of a vein, branching his strokes out to curve around his girth. He’s being intentionally slow and careful, practically wisps of touch and it just makes Yuutarou’s need worse, hips straining to undulate, find some friction.

To no avail, Yuutarou begs wordlessly, babbling against rubber.  _ Please, Hajime, stop! I need it, I need it so bad, it’s been… hours! _

His face is a mess, he can feel his blindfold soaked through, how his nose runs and saliva drips down his chin where he can’t swallow. Pitifully, he sobs, his muscles burning as every single one of them holds tense. He can’t take it anymore, can’t hold it anymore.

It’s not until Hajime runs the tip of his pen in a full circle beneath the head of Yuutarou’s cock that Hajime lets go.

It’s a bait.

Yuutarou doesn’t come, and he can feel Hajime’s satisfaction. Perhaps he  _ is _ turning insane, but he can  _ feel  _ it.

Just like he can hear when Hajime says, softly like a whisper, “Come, Yuutarou.”

It broils up from his stomach, bursts out to every stretch of skin as if the penwork itself touches him all at once. Yuutarou cries out, throat shredded and raw as he experiences a full-body orgasm. It doesn’t even occur to him that his cock throbs just as intently until something closes around him, wet and warm and-

Hajime sinks all the way down on him, throat flaring expertly to take his cock to the base while his orgasm crests a second time, valiantly twitching inside his mouth.

It's pure bliss, and it just keeps rolling through him like tidal wave after tidal wave. He doesn't come down, he  _ can't _ come down, moaning and whimpering uselessly as every stretch of his body continues to rhythmically pulse.

Even the way Hajime runs a hand on the underside of a tense thigh triggers another orgasm.

Yuutarou isn't with him anymore, like he's reached another plane of existence. His eyes roll back and flutter shut, the run of tears down the sides of his cheeks forgotten. His muscles should ache but they don't, only leaving them heavy and warm in the throes of pleasure.

How long it continues, Yuutarou doesn't know, until Hajime _ finally  _ breaks him out of his experience, bringing attention to his cock by sucking  _ hard _ .

Yuutarou doesn't know anything, he doesn't feel anything as his last orgasm passes through him. When spasms slow, everything's perfect, everything's  _ right _ , and he could easily live in the state of suspension he finds himself in forever.

The way Hajime pulls off holds no care for the oversensitivity Yuutarou feels, body still twitching and contracting with the last waves of pleasure. Hajime keeps his cheeks hollowed, lips closed and tongue teasing. Yuutarou doesn’t have any coherence to try and stop him, riding on what’s left of the sensations in his body as Hajime suckles on the head of his cock, sliding off with a simple motion.

Even the cool air hitting his cock is too much now. The leather bindings sting his skin where they hold him exposed and the droplets of sweat running down his body cause him to shiver.

The most grounding thing he needs comes to him, Hajime's hand stroking through the sweaty strands of his hair before breath hits his burning cheeks. It's all the praise he needs, as his body floats down, soon to fall heavy. That's why it's swift, the small press of lips to his cheek.

Hajime moves off once again, trailing his fingers over Yuutarou's patterned skin. He's no longer with a barrier to his touch, no longer with a thin band of latex between them and Yuutarou can feel the very pattern of the pads of his fingers. With one hand he traces the lines of his art, and it sends Yuutarou's body into a flurry of giddiness.

Hajime thinks he's beautiful, beautiful enough to use as a vessel to carry his art. Yuutarou can feel that, the love in his touch.

He feels silly for crying, but he does, energy pent-up from the long session long since gone. He wants to finish now. He wants Hajime to touch him more significantly, hold him and comfort him.

It's all he ever needs.

Before long, the touch slows to a stop, halting somewhere on Yuutarou's sternum. Molten streaks of come fall across his stomach and Yuutarou flinches as each of the few ropes sear into his skin like a brand.

As if he wasn't marked up enough already.

-

Hajime gives him back his hearing first, carefully removing the plugs in his ears. For a moment, Yuutarou hears nothing but his own breath, until Hajime finally speaks.

It's heavy, the subtle growl in his voice more pronounced that it cuts right through to Yuutarou's senses. "Hey, Yuu." It's a whisper and yet… it's so loud. "I'm here. You're back."

It's words Yuutarou has heard many times before, where a session has left him dazed and confused, sometimes  _ frighteningly _ so. But those words are confirmation that he's fine, that Hajime is there and that he's going to be taken care of.

Yuutarou responds as usual, a raspy noise in the back of his throat that prompts Hajime to direct his attention there. "I'm going to take the gag out, so you can talk to me, OK, Yuu?" He says, conveying everything he'll do. While Yuutarou feels more coherent than when he usually does this, he's glad for the warning so he can relax his jaw for Hajime to slide the gag out. "That's great, Yuutarou," Hajime says, pulling away to get a tissue to wipe at his mouth wet with saliva.

Yuutarou swallows, allows his jaw some movement before licking his lips. "Hajime…" He murmurs, taking in a long, shaking breath in and filling his lungs. "Please… touch me."

He longs for his voice not to have cracked so, or to sob on the next touch of skin to his; Hajime's warm hand sliding up his outstretched arm. "I've been touching you all day…" Hajime teases, humour evident in his voice, before reassuring, "I promise, I'll only break contact when I absolutely have to, OK?"

Yuutarou nods his heavy head, tongue too swollen to say much other than a broken, "Thank you."

Each limb Hajime frees he lowers slowly to the table, soothing the muscles with hot hands, encouraging Yuutarou not to move, even as twinges of aches startle him. "It's OK, bet you ache, huh? Let me help with that. I know you must be hungry, and… you need a shower, just bare with me a little longer, baby."

Yuutarou would bare any of it, despite hunger creeping up on him at the mention, Yuutarou doesn't mind when Hajime's hands work magic on his muscles, as he massages and soothes them, works his stiff joints. The pain in them is satisfying, dulled against the sheer contentment his orgasm left his body in.

"Feels good." Yuutarou says, throat protesting his voice. "So good."

Hajime laughs softly, and it causes Yuutarou's chest to swell. It's an automatic reaction every time he hears him laugh, and now it spreads outwards, lighting up more of him in warmth. "Considering you came about… ten times, I would expect you to."

Entire body flushing red, Yuutarou's dick gives a twitch of interest in making that eleven, but Hajime ignores it in favour of continuing to knead his thigh.

"I didn't think I could actually…"

"You could… do anything to me, Hajime." Yuutarou cut in, letting out a drawn-out moan at a particularly good press of the heel of Hajime's hand. "You're amazing…"

In retaliation, Hajime repeats the motion with his hand, rolling out a pinch in his muscle and causing his leg to spasm. "Well, I do know pretty much…  _ everything _ there is to know about your body. What makes you squirm, what makes you do what I want, what makes you weak at the knees. I know that when I do  _ this _ …"

Hajime pushes Yuutarou's leg back, bent at the knee right to his chest, hand holding the back of his thigh while he closes in to Yuutarou's face to hear him whimper.

"You make a sound like a desperate puppy."

Yuutarou wishes to see Haijme's face. He imagines him wearing a smirk, perhaps even a softer expression. There's no denying that the quickest way to get Yuutarou excited is when Hajime manhandles him, and when he slowly lowers his leg again, Yuutarou flushes knowing Hajime couldn't miss his obvious erection.

Again, it's ignored as Hajime finishes his massage and slides his hands up Yuutarou's body, his neck and face to his still-damp blindfold and unties it from around his face.

Yuutarou could cry, seeing Hajime for the first time in hours, even cast in shadow. He tells himself it's the light that makes his eyes water as he lifts his weary arms to touch fingers to Hajime's face. "Hello." Hajime says, sincerely with a smile, and Yuutarou sobs.

It’s such a simple greeting, followed by a movement mirroring his own, touching his wet, tear-stained cheek. It’s so gentle, the same as he’s been touching him this entire time, but it’s somehow enough.

“How did I do?”

Yuutarou’s mind didn’t connect the dots so quickly, not until Hajime laughed softly, helping him to sit up on the table, and he saw himself. Hours. He’d been laying there for hours and somehow it didn’t even occur to him exactly what he’d look like afterwards, how… different. He was covered from his collarbone to his ankles in black ink, so many intricate details that in a dim-lit room it seemed his skin was many shades darker. “Hajime, I-” He doesn’t even care for the drying come on his stomach, as he runs fingers over the work, strains his eyes to see everything. “It’s… beautiful.” Even without being able to see properly, details so small he’s sure he could spend forever finding each one. How long it must’ve taken him to design it…

“Yeah, I know you are.” Hajime retorts, taking his chin to look back up at him. His eyes seem dark, shadowed, and Yuutarou is so caught up in them he holds his breath. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? You think you’re beautiful?”

There's no argument, the promise of lips so tantalisingly close. “Yeah,” Yuutarou admits, “Yeah I do.”  _ Even if… it’s all your doing. _

Soft lips catch gently on Yuutarou’s, and since he doesn’t have the energy to respond as he likes, Hajime takes over, keeping him upright to take his mouth. It’s not a very long kiss. In fact, for a post-orgasm Hajime, he’s surprisingly collected. The kind of collected he gets once his first morning coffee has worn out and his concentration sets in. It’s reassuring, especially once Hajime winds an arm around his back, another sliding underneath his knees. “I’ve cooked dinner, but we should shower first.”

Yuutarou doesn’t complain, just lets the colour red flush over his body as Hajime so easily picks him up, carrying him bridal-style from the shop floor to their apartment above. So attentive, even the curtains here are shut to keep his bodyclock in check for work on Monday. He doesn’t know what time it is, exactly, all he knows is that Hajime will let him know eventually.

In fact, everything from this point on is down to Hajime. Yuutarou always feels somewhat bad for it. After all that time and care he put into Yuutarou’s pleasure, he’s even now having to do all the work, down to so much as cleaning him. It’s futile to resist, though, when he reaches for the shower head and Hajime snatches it before him. “Don’t even try, Yuu.” He says, and turns the shower on. As always, he checks the temperature and double-checks, running it along Yuutarou’s lower leg. “That OK?”

Humming affirmative, Yuutarou shuts his eyes and awaits the run of water over his body. The pressure is low, so as not to wash off all of Hajime's work, and it tickles his skin softly, re-igniting the feelings from earlier. It keeps him in a comfortable space as Hajime washes his body meticulously, pressing the occasional kiss to his skin. He’s only just out, and his body aches are starting to settle in, but man… he wants to be back there again.

While Hajime does his hair, he re-opens his eyes, stretches his leg out in front of him to take a better look at the design there. He doesn’t recognise the art style as one Hajime uses often. It’s symmetrical, two dragons curled and woven around each other in an intricate weave around his thigh. He tries to remember feeling the strokes, running his finger carefully over it. Further down, it extends to a floral pattern in a similar style, thorny stems woven loosely, spreading out into petals.

The thought that all of this has been designed specifically for him overwhelms him. How much thought had Hajime put into every detail. Does  _ all _ of it mean something? “What… does it mean?” He asks as Hajime rinses out his hair, fingers grazing his scalp.

Hajime hums, turning the shower off to speak, hooking his head over his shoulder to look at him. “In Celtic myth, dragons are protectors. They live among gods and look over the earth.” Hajime explains, unaware of Yuutarou’s gaze now fixed on his blushing face in the mirror. “Ah, I just, thought it was cool, really… Don’t… expect me to have an answer for all of it…”

“So it’s us?” Yuutarou asks, watches Hajime’s blush deepen as he pulls back from looking. He can’t help but chuckle softly and he knows Hajime feels embarrassed when he pulls him up roughly to stand without another word. “Either way… I really like it.” He whispers, turning around in Hajime’s hold after a last glance in the mirror.

Sliding his hands around Hajime’s naked body, Yuutarou dips to kiss his lips, pulling Hajime into him. Hajime doesn’t seem too pleased for his vulnerability to be exploited, leading Yuutarou to be pushed up against the wall and put back in his place.“Need I remind you I just spent hours fucking your body with the tip of a pen?” Yuutarou doesn’t regret the pitiful noise he makes, even as the throbbing heat in his body grows the longer Hajime stays in his space, close,  _ warm _ . Still, he gets his kiss, tongue and teeth leaving his lips throbbing after Hajime pulls back. He’s got a satisfied tilt to his lips now, lowering back down on his feet. “Serves you right.”

From too little touch to too much, Yuutarou digs his fingers into Hajime’s back as he redirects his efforts to his nipples, giving them a rough treatment while he carefully hoists Yuutarou up, setting his legs around his hips. “Hajime-”

“You have no idea how patient I’ve had to be not to just-”

Yuutarou locks his ankles behind him. He can see in the mirror on the opposite wall, the rippling of muscles beneath the scaley detailing of Hajime’s tattoo, as he trails a hand down behind him to press against his entrance. It’s a tease, a cruel tease that makes his entire body jump at the sensation. It’s not like Hajime isn’t in the same position, forehead falling against Yuutarou’s shoulder.

“Shit.” He curses, pulling his hand back to blindly reach for the cupboard. In his haste, he knocks a few things out, but finds what he needs.

After such a long time of lying exposed, Yuutarou has to commend Hajime for not giving in. The preparations he had made, including a full-body shave, gave him unlimited access to every stretch of his body and yet he had kept to his word. No penetration, only touch.

There was no way he’d hold back now. Yuutarou didn’t want him to hold back.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone interested, the dragons Iwaizumi drew were coiled around each other in a way similar to a Celtic "Love-Knot" so... There definitely _was_ meaning, he was just too tsun to admit it. Better distract him instead so he doesn't ask any more...


End file.
